


Hands-on Practice

by Waanderlust



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Swan Lake, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1508978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waanderlust/pseuds/Waanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's driving Arthur mad. </p><p>How could this skinny, gangly twig of a classmate be a dancer? How could this goofy idiot be playing The Swan in the year-end production? Most of all, how could Merlin Emrys be Arthur's roommate this semester? </p><p>A Dance School AU with room-mates thrown in for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands-on Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tari_Sue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tari_Sue/gifts), [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/gifts), [BekahRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekahRose/gifts).



> This started when Wasp said, "You mean you've never heard of the all-male Swan Troupe in Swan Lake?", and continued when C and B kept reminding me how much I wanted to write this. Disclaimer: I love, love watching dances and dancers, but I don't (can't) dance. Thanks to the lovely hart_d (h_d) for the beta, all mistakes are of course my own.

It's driving Arthur mad.

How could this skinny, gangly twig of a classmate be a dancer? He couldn't even walk to the school canteen without tripping over--well, his own feet, really---or balance his books and haversack without spilling everything onto the floor at some imagined sound. At that, his thin face would be the spitting image of a startled stoat, all eyes and ears and open mouth gaping like an idiot until Arthur felt like stalking over, pushing that jaw closed, telling him he looked right the fool and ... picking up his books and bags for him and hauling him out of harm's way.

How could this goofy idiot of an Albion Academy student be playing one of the most highly coveted roles in the year-end production, portraying The Swan in all his dark, sultry and smouldering glory? He went around the whole school seemingly knowing everybody (man, woman and child, most animals and the school staff as well), always with a friendly word or wave for all and sundry. Even Anna the Ogress who was a terror at the mess hall seemed to dollop extra pudding for him.

How could this strange (and strangely fascinating) specimen channel the boy-child (he looked twelve, for god's sake) and yet be lauded by Mr Gaius The Eyebrows as having the most depth, the most interpretive pathos, the most moving outpouring of emotions of the whole graduating class? It must be those limpid blue eyes. Or grey eyes, depending on the light. Whatever.

Most of all, how could Merlin Emrys be Arthur's roommate this semester? ("You're what?!" "Er, hi, this is room 5C...?") Arthur had distinctly, definitely, positively requested a single room, the school's policy of community living and all that shit be damned. Wasn't the contribution of the Pendragon Foundation to the arts in general and the Royal Society of Dance in particular significant enough to mean something? And so Arthur had glared with as much fury as he could muster (dressed as he was in PJs with light blue ballet slippers all over them, what, it was branded and a gift from some Very Important Designer or other), drawn himself up to his full height and opened his mouth to let rip. But Merlin had done that "trip over his own two feet" thing, and Arthur leant across to hold him up without thinking, and Merlin had clung on, looked up, smiled "thanks, mate," and dropped all his bags with a clatter on the floor. Arthur's fury had frozen in mid-rear and slunk away and in its stead a civilized "I'm not your mate, you fool!" came forth. Arthur couldn't throw Merlin out, it was like kicking a puppy. A newborn. An orphaned one. While it was snuggled in fluffy blankets and whimpering.

And that was how Arthur ended up with Merlin as classmate and roommate. Merlin was ... all sorts of words beyond infuriating (Arthur refused to call him "Ems"- what, were they gangsters from the hood?).

***

It's still driving Arthur mad.

Merlin seemed to attract a steady stream of visitors and friends coming by just to "hang out." Even Arthur, no wallflower himself, had nowhere near the number of hangers-on Merlin did, and that was saying something, since Merlin had just appeared in school at the start of the final year and Arthur had been firmly ensconced in the class' social fabric from the very start (true, there was that slightly shaky start in Freshers' Week and that incident with Sophia and Vivienne, but honestly, that was all water under the bridge and long forgotten by everyone who wasn't Sophia or Vivienne). After Daegal appeared in their room at midnight ostensibly for help with textual interpretation, Arthur lost his temper, tossed him out and told Merlin that just because they had the slightly bigger corner room did not make 5C the unofficial lounge and living room on their floor, and that his friends had to keep regular visiting hours. Merlin had pointed out Albion was not a hospital nor were they invalids, and then they bickered for a while exchanging accusations (prat, snob, plebeian, peasant, dollop-head, cabbage-head, turnip-head) until they ran out of vegetable names and raised voices became smirks of amusement that somehow transmuted into uncontrollable laughter (and re-negotiated visitors' hours).

Next. Merlin, darling of the school faculty and all-around nice guy, had mysteriously placed Arthur on his "Do Not Take Bullshit From" list. Not even an hour after Merlin had got into the room than Arthur made a comment--Arthur was just saying it, he was not being peevish, no, not at all--about Merlin being messy and Merlin had frowned and said, better messy than fat, and laughed when Arthur spluttered in indignation and clutched his sides and insisted all this was _muscle_ , it was not fat, and they couldn't all be generically scrawny, could they. Even after Merlin had realised who Arthur was (not difficult as a whole floor in the School bore Arthur’s surname), Merlin didn’t seem to let up. Merlin pushed all Arthur's buttons and did so every chance he got, with great glee. Arthur didn't know why he let Merlin get away with bloody murder; he would never have let anyone say half the things Merlin did to him, the bloody cheeky bastard. To think he was two years younger than Arthur (some wunderkind that skipped years in school). Not an iota of respect.

Then Elyan had gone and injured his back, courtesy of a weekend riding trip in Wales and a horse named Rambo (shouldn't that have been a clue?), and Arthur suddenly found himself promoted to the role of The Prince (the human one, the one that wasn't a swan) in the year-end thingy. That put him squarely opposite Merlin as it was a duet, and if Arthur had thought his life was getting out of hand, that was the point where things tipped over and careened properly out of control.

****

Dancing with Merlin was like waltzing with a fairy.

Damn him.

They were running through the duet for the first time, and compared to magical Irish pixie Merlin, Arthur seemed bulky and heavy, just a split second slower on every move. He felt like a dancing bear (minus the tutu) and probably looked just as grouchy as one.

"Again! Two, three, four and go!"

Arthur had reverted to his old bad habits of muttering a commentary of the moves and counting time aloud for the difficult bits. It was all Merlin's fault for being too light-footed, too delicate; he was making Arthur look bad.

Throughout the practice, Merlin looked at Arthur, solemn eyes under a sweeping raven fringe. It made Arthur self-conscious; had he been talking under his breath again? Merlin's expressions alternated between exasperation and something a little softer. Up close, Merlin's jaw was set firmly, an indication of his effort of the demanding steps. Not that Arthur had much time to examine Merlin's face, as the fast-paced routine had them coming together and spinning apart regularly.

"And, lift!" Mr Gaius called.

Arthur held Merlin's wiry frame by the waist and hefted him up, a pale form decked out in a vest and leggings. He hadn't partnered with another guy properly for a year and was adjusting to the feel and the dynamics. Arthur grunted at the exertion; Merlin was heavier that he looked.

Merlin was also faster than he normally seemed. Also more energetic. And more expressive.

Oh wait, that's because--that's right--Arthur had never been with Merlin in the studio before, and roomie-Merlin was a different creature from Dance-God-Merlin. Merlin the dancer was all sinewy strength and graceful limbs, emanating power and flowing as one with the music. Roomie-Merlin was normally clad in his onesies, burrowed under the duvet for warmth or munching on an endless stream of snacks.

Arthur was beginning to see what all the fuss over Merlin was about. He just wished this revelation hadn't come on him when he was metaphorically staring at Merlin's arse, trying to catch up. He scrambled for an arabesque then a turn and told himself to focus; no way would he be responsible for broken ribs or sprained fingers like some beginner who had never partnered before.

It was a spring day right out of winter, grey and unseasonably cold. The drawback of studios with ceiling to floor windows meant that bad weather was just as visible as the good. Fat raindrops had been pelting against the glass the whole hour, and the studio was chilly--chillier still as they had to keep starting and stopping during practice for corrections and adjustments. Mr Gaius might be the Wizard for his ability to coax and coach dancers, but it had been a distinctly un-magical prac so far.

It was a relief when the first pass at the choreo was completed and the pair of them retreated to the corner.

"I think the part where you wind around me, it might be easier if you stiffen your core?" Merlin said in between glugs of water. It was the first thing he’d uttered to Arthur this practice. Despite Merlin's lowered voice, Mr Gaius turned from across the studio on his way out and beamed at Arthur and Merlin as if it was the best fucking idea ever.

Arthur glared at Merlin, a retort on the tip of his tongue bitten back. More _core_ , he thought savagely, that's easy for Merlin to say, as he'd had three whole weeks of practice on Arthur, hadn't he? Arthur caught sight of his own sullen face in the studio mirrors and cursed his transparency.

Merlin continued to speak; he must be either really dense or very arrogant. "I meant, I'm holding it as stable as I can but the grip will be better if you...?"

"I know what you mean, Merlin, I _have_ been going to dance school longer than you, and contrary to what you may think, some people think my dancing is decent." Two level certificates and winner of the junior competition in school, so there. Not that they were comparing medals or anything. Nope.

"Look, you don't have to be so defensive," Merlin's voice wasn't low anymore and his accent was more pronounced. "I'm just trying to help. Hey, we're partners now, right?"

"Who says I need any help?" At this moment, Arthur didn't care that he'd as good as written "5-year old" on his forehead. His tiredness and frustration were surfacing in an ugly way.

"I didn't mean _you_ , you idiot... You know what, fine, be an arsehole then." Merlin shrugged and turned away.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and scrabbled for calm thoughts, but Merlin wasn't done yet. A hard jab on Arthur's biceps made him yelp.

"You know, where I come from, it's customary to give and take, to build trust. If you weren't such a self-centered git, we might have some chance of getting this together in the next month." 

"Who are you calling self-centred? I'm saving your arse, filling in at the eleventh hour because no one else was your height." Arthur had flung out the words before he realised it.

"What, you took pity on the new boy, did you? Well, thanks but no thanks, no need to do your charitable duty." Merlin's cheekbones were accentuated with spots of bright red and his plump lips flattened till they were just thin white lines. Arthur had a sinking feeling he might have said the wrong thing. Things.

Merlin drew himself up and shook his head, once, twice, and turned. Arthur caught Merlin's arm, not allowing Merlin's stiff push to shake him off.

"Look, Merlin, just ... Just give me some time. To ... get to know the routine." _And to know you as a dance partner, you're totally different._ "By next practice, we'll try to put it together again." And hopefully it would be less of a bloody disaster than today--both the dance and their partnership.

This time, Arthur let go when Merlin shook his arm.

"You're ... Where are you going?" Arthur asked, heart in his throat. Merlin had grabbed his sweater. He didn't want Merlin to leave.

"Cool down," Merlin cocked his head towards the next room. "Gwen." That made no sense at all to Arthur, but he wasn't exactly in a position (or the mood) to pursue it.

Arthur waited till Merlin was out of sight--he would have been too much of a distraction anyway--slapped himself on the temple for good measure, and went about the tedious business of learning the steps.

After his second run through, at least Arthur had the sequence down. Now he could focus on the small refinements. Next he could think about layering on the expression and nuances. He had no idea how some people could magically work on all aspects of the dance at the same time, and conjure something akin to a performance from nowhere. There was a reason why it was called practice; things needed polishing.

He knew he was getting into the rhythm of things when he felt a surge of energy despite his tiredness. The jerky motions smoothed out and he sensed that his lines were clean and movements were crisp. Fucking finally! This! When things flowed like this, Arthur loved his craft, loved that it was his calling and his thing in life. No matter what people (like Father) might say.

Arthur had to stop and grope for the light switch when he couldn't see at all.  It might be true that you could dance in the dark if you knew your steps and knew your space, but he didn't fancy tripping on a bottle and spraining something. He flicked the switch.

"Argh!!!"

"Sorry!!" Merlin flung his hands up on the air. "Sorry, I thought you knew I was here!"

"No, I didn't know, I was practicing, and I don't have infrared vision, _Mer_ -lin," Arthur said when his heart rate went back to normal. At a further attempt at acting normal, he started his cool down stretches at the barre. After a few minutes, Merlin joined him, standing facing him at the barre.

"I thought you stretched already?" Arthur said. With Gwen or whatever.

"Nah."

Oh. Arthur swallowed. He moved to second position. "About before... It wasn't that. I mean. You're not. I wanted to do this." It wasn't charity.

Merlin inclined his head in the tiniest of nods.

"It hasn't been any trouble, either, bringing you around the School. You know, in case you were wondering." Arthur peeked at Merlin and was gratified to see a small smile. Emboldened, he went on, "Not that you're ever bashful or quiet."

"Oi! I'll have you know I'm actually very shy."

"Really? You could have fooled me. The whole year seems to be friends with you by now."

Merlin lifted one shoulder in the middle of a stretch. "Doesn't hurt to be friendly."

"You're like the teachers' pet."

"Stop it. Just because you’re too posh to smile at people… " Merlin's cheeks were flushing red again, but this time it made Arthur feel light and airy.

"The blue-eyed boy. The apple of their eye. The delight of..."

"Quit it!" Merlin was radiating merriment now and Arthur abandoned his last stretch to lean over and cuff him gently.

****

"Lift your hands up and sway with the wind, let your trunks move with the elements, your branches are fluid and responsive. A bit more effort, please, Leon. Good, Gwen."

Arthur didn't feel remotely tree-like, but flapped his hands anyway. He quirked an eyebrow at Gwaine standing ramrod straight next to him and snorted when Gwaine mouthed, "Bamboo. It's a tree isn't it?"

Miss Catrina swished between them, "I don't want any strained faces and scrunched shoulders. As far as the audience is concerned, all this is effortless. That's why it's called a performance." She looked unimpressed at Gwaine's attempt but passed without comment.

Arthur eyed the clock; half an hour more of this. These frivolities were fine for bright-eyed and bushy-tailed first year students, but three years on, everyone was twitchy, wanting to sprint right out of the gates of the Academy and land some actual jobs.

"Last exercise. For this, please work with your partners for the Production pieces." Miss Catrina paused till the shuffling subsided. "Most of you in contemporary or ballet pieces are working in pairs, and the connection is crucial. We have to believe, I have to see and feel it."

From the other side of the room, Merlin tilted his head at Arthur. Typical of him to expect Arthur to flutter around him; why couldn't Merlin be the one to come over instead?

"Don't launch into your choreo yet, class, I want you to sense your partner. Remember what you did with the tree? Projecting an emotion with minimal movement? Try to convey that togetherness with your partner, but hold your positions."

Arthur hoped he wasn't rolling his eyes. It was alarming how his sarcastic expressions took over his face. Right, they were to emote togetherness? He tried to imagine him and Merlin as Astaire and Rogers. Merlin suddenly pressed back, a firm pressure on Arthur's chest; how did Merlin know he was daydreaming? The man was prescient, considering he was standing in front of Arthur, chest to back, hands joined with his but unable to see him.

"Class, now make eye contact. Build the connection."

Merlin turned slightly to catch Arthur's gaze. Those eyes were always so knowing, framed by long sooty lashes. The light was kicking right off Merlin's cheekbones.

"Much better, Arthur. At least now you two don't look like bananas in pyjamas," Miss Catrina murmured as she passed them.

Merlin quirked a half smile and Arthur risked a whisper, "The bah-nah-nahs in Pah-jah-mahs, mate."

Just when Arthur thought they were off the hook, Miss Catrina announced, "Long hugs, please!"

Arthur groaned and Merlin looked confused. "Is that code for something?" Merlin said. Everyone else was twisting into position.

"It's what it says on the tin." Arthur said. He manhandled Merlin till they were facing each other, and squashed Merlin in a rough embrace.

"Umph! Oi, watch it you, I'm not a plushy toy," Merlin's voice was muffled, pressed as he was against Arthur's chest. He wiggled around till his head was perched on Arthur's shoulder instead.

"Yeah, get comfortable, mate, these long hugs can be, err, long." Arthur said under his breath.

Sometimes Arthur forgot Merlin hadn't been here long enough to be subjected to the full repertoire of their teachers' oddities. It had taken Arthur a while to get used to these prolonged episodes of body contact himself. All the dance training had taught him to dissociate himself from his body when expedient.

Merlin shifted back, forcing Arthur to tilt forwards to maintain his hold on him. "Easier this way," Merlin said. He looked Arthur in the eye and grinned, "Since I'm taller than you."

"What? You are _not_ taller than me," Arthur made as if to snap Merlin's ear, temptingly close to his mouth.

"Of course I am. See?" Merlin drew himself up slightly, leaving Arthur with a view of his chin and neck.

"Tiptoeing doesn't count."

"Ahhh. You're boring, Arthur. How long are we stuck here?"

"God knows. You'd better hope you don't get a cramp or an itch."

"I'd better entertain us then," Merlin's hands on Arthur's waist fluttered and his fingers tapped Arthur's side. Arthur twitched.

"Merlin! What are you...?"

"You're ticklish," Merlin sounded delighted. "I might have guessed. "

"Don't be so juvenile, Merlin."

"Some of us aren't channeling middle-aged old men before our time." Merlin's voice was petulant but he (and his fingers) stopped fidgeting. Merlin leaned properly into the hug and fell silent.

They stood there, balanced together. Merlin's breath was a steady rhythm on Arthur's neck, huffs matching the cadence of his chest. His hands were linked behind Arthur's back. Slowly but surely, Merlin grew heavier as he was settled in Arthur's own hold.

Time crept by.

Arthur supposed it could be worse. At least this wasn't too awkward, like when Elena kept giggling and drooled on him. Nor was it someone slimy like Cedric, or "I showered last week" Norris. Merlin didn't smell--Arthur sniffed experimentally--well, he smelt like Merlin, like Merlin's sheets and the steam that wafted out of their bathroom when Merlin finished his bath, but mixed with a hint of sweat. It wasn't unpleasant.

Arthur was familiar enough by now with Merlin to be at ease with being plastered together. It was just one of those exercises. Merlin's grasp had slackened completely. Arthur shrugged his shoulders to unknot them, and his joints popped audibly.

"Wha-?" Merlin's voice floated up at him, rough and low.

"Merlin. Did you fall asleep?"

"Umm, no?" Merlin coughed. "No, no." But he hooked his arms around Arthur's neck instead and clung on. "Brilliant idea, though."

"You clinging koala," Arthur grumbled. But he tightened his grip and took Merlin's weight. Merlin was tired. They all were, what with twelve hour days of practice, little time for breaks, and mugging for dance history and foreign languages and anatomy tests as well.

For such a skinny thing, Merlin was a grounded weight in his arms; Arthur knew he must be strong, to do all the jumps and lifts needed, but when Merlin was tucked up under his duvet, he looked like the most ethereal being. That lucky thing had the small head, long neck and shortened torso that were God's gift to any dancer, but especially ballet dancers. Arthur was past the stage where he despaired at being built like a soccer player trying to dance, but now, idling mulling over this limpet, he thought it must be real nice to have a biological advantage.

"Hmm..." Merlin shifted in his arms.

"Idiot, don't slide to the ground and give the game away," Arthur huffed.

"Um. 'K."

Arthur sighed and held on.

***

 

"18 naked dancers?" Eylan echoed Mrs Annis' introduction of the [weekly video.](http://www.sadlerswells.com/whats-on/2014/Olivier-Dubois-Company/)

"Yes,"said Mrs Annis. "The dance is ground-breaking for them performing without..."

"Clothes?" Leon supplied.

"Support?" Elena shouted. She clutched her chest in an exaggerated gesture and the class laughed.

"...without man-made covering," continued Mrs Annis. "They are stripped bare literally and figuratively to explore the human condition. Antonio Dubois is a leading French contemporary dancer and choreographer."

It was the most unerotic naked dance Arthur had ever seen, and he said so loudly in the discussions, eight long minutes of video-watching later.

" This was the  most pretentious and unsexy thing I have ever seen. A 'hypnotic chorus where body and soul meet'? I just felt sorry for them, shaking it out all over. At the end, all I could think was that they needed a good shower," Arthur said.

"It was not pretentious, and it wasn’t mean to be sexy!" Merlin said. "It was so powerful! It was overwhelming looking at them exhausting themselves, white hot, all parts of the greater machine."

Arthur snorted. "That's right, a machine. It was so mechanical. What's the point of laying bare the human body if you don't use its humanity?"

"You're just being a prude," Merlin said.

Gilli, who had the misfortune of being the third man in their group, looked from Merlin to Arthur and back, and said, "I wouldn't pay to see it." Arthur ignored him.

"I'm not a prude," Arthur said. "For fuck's sake, I'm a dancer! And I was an athlete before this; I've spent my whole life around locker rooms and changing rooms."

Merlin leaned over, a gleam in his eye. "But you're still so British, so uptight."

"What you mean is, you're so hippy and bohemian, or you think you are. Was your mother into natural organic stuff? Woodstock? Hemp?"

"What I mean is, I'm totally comfortable to go skinny-dipping," Merlin said. Gilli had given up and sat back playing with his phone.

An image of Merlin naked rose unbidden to Arthur's mind. It wasn't unpleasant. "Yeah? So ... So what?" Arthur said. His throat was dry.

"Not just in a pool either. In Europe, nudist beaches are very common. The Europeans don't have all these--"

"How did we get from French contemporary dance to nudist beaches, gentlemen?" Mrs Annis asked. Arthur had not noticed her standing behind him till she spoke.

"Er, it was about the French conception of the body as a form," Merlin said.

Good save, Arthur thought. What the hell, how did they get from French contemporary dance to the idea of nude Merlin seared in Arthur's mind? Arthur couldn't unsee it now, try as he might, for the rest of that lesson and beyond.

All the little glimpses and touches of Merlin from dance partner and roomie came together to make a fairly complete picture. Merlin's arse was small but tight, toned from all the drills. He was skinny, but not too much, shoulders slim but with a muscular chest and arms that had to be seen to be believed. Arthur remembered a parkour session where Merlin had hung from the rafters, and his biceps rippled as he pulled himself up then swung around. It was like watching a gymnast in action, and was an extraordinary show of strength Arthur had never thought he'd see in a fellow dancer.

The one thing Arthur hadn't seen yet, not properly, was Merlin's dick. For all his pronouncement of being comfortable with his own body, the most Merlin had taken off in their room was his top. That's how Arthur knew Merlin's chest was strong and fit and sprinkled with dark hair. He'd seen Merlin with a towel around his waist once or twice, but that was it. More than once, Arthur caught himself staring at Merlin's back (alright, arse) and wondering if Merlin wore a dance brief to practice, doing the old "scoop and swoop" and "pluck and pull" to get that smooth line.

Hmm. What was all that about?

 

****

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, dropping to his knees to where Merlin had folded over on the studio floor.

Merlin was white-faced. He grabbed his ankle and bit his lip. Arthur reckoned it was their old friend, the over-use injuries; anyone who danced long enough had a litany of old pain and recurring injuries. He sat closer and hoped he was giving off supportive vibes. Arthur couldn't continue anyway as they were doing paired work. He guessed this wasn't a good time to say, "No wonder they say the arabesque is evil."

Mr Gaius came over and pointed to the side of the studio; Merlin nodded slowly. His shoulders slumped and chin drooped. "Sorry," he muttered to Arthur, eyes on the floor. Arthur was glad he hadn't said anything earlier. He wanted Merlin to feel better.

"What're you apologizing to me for?" Arthur said, his voice light. "I know it's your secret ploy to have me wait on you." He slid an arm under Merlin's armpits and eased him up.

"Now I'll have to get you ice and stuff, and look after your sorry arse." Arthur proceeded to do just that, waving off offers from concerned Gwen, effusive Daegal, gallant Percy and quite a few more classmates. He said loudly, "What, and subject you to Merlin? No, leave him to me, I'm used to his foolishness."

Merlin flushed and seemed to shrink even smaller. Arthur supposed he must be hurting. Merlin wasn't normally so reticent.

"Just leave me here." Merlin said in a small voice. "You could still run through your part. I might feel better."

Arthur doubted it, but shrugged and left him propped up on the side. As Merlin wished. He poked buttons till the music came back on and dived back into the piece.

Arthur ran up and down the area in imaginary angst and confusion, keeping his frame high and consciously pushing the extremes of very small and very large movements. The minimalist parts were the hardest; don't overdo it, he reminded himself.

The studio was one of his favourites, big and airy and bathed with natural light most days. Now in the spring afternoon, the sunlight sloped in through the whole-length windows and reflected back to the rest of the room. The place was just starting to warm up.

The scene was set in a graveyard at night. Arthur went through the steps with an imaginary Merlin--no, the Swan--shadowing him, dogging his every step, playing off him, taunting him, and then finally struggling against him till it became a tit-for-tat battle for domination intermingled with joy of being seen for who he really was, with excitement for allowing himself to feel this way.

The set was a short one, but he was drenched in sweat when he walked back. Merlin was seated on the floor and leaning back on his palms; his body made one long lean line that drew Arthur's gaze even as he tried not to stare. He imagined Merlin had been staring at him too, but when he got closer, Merlin seemed to be playing with the frayed edge of his tee-shirt.

"See anything you liked?" Arthur said. He grabbed a towel and water.

"What?" Merlin ducked his head down in a characteristically Merlin way, but not before Arthur caught the flush high on his cheeks.

Arthur wiped the water from his mouth. "The set?" he asked. "You _were_ watching me, weren't you? What did you think of how I played the character? Didn't you say last time there was something off with the middle part of the pas de deux?" It was one of their ongoing disagreements; Merlin wanted it more fluid, Arthur felt it should be more stylized, and they had tried it both ways but had never quite resolved it.

Never accuse Arthur of kicking a fellow student when he was down, though. One look at Merlin and he decided not to pursue it today.

He took Merlin by the shoulders. "You're acting very strangely. Not dehydrated, are you? Here, drink more."

Merlin shook his head. There was a mark on his lips where he'd been worrying it. "I think I'll skip anatomy." That was the next class they had. It wasn't Merlin's favourite. "I'll just rest back in the room. Can I..."

"...get the notes from me? No change there. Even when you show up, you still ask for mine."

"Some of us don't like memorizing Latin names."

"How different is that from remembering French dance terms?"

"Dance is alive, body parts are..." Merlin gripped the nearby chair to pull himself up, but Arthur intercepted and hauled him up.

"...essential to be able to dance." Arthur finished his sentence for him. "And need to be looked after. Come on, I'm going back anyway."

Arthur swept their belongings up with his other hand and they walked back slowly with an uneven gait, bags bumping and limbs knocking against one another.

"Did you eat enough?" Back in their room, Arthur looked down at Merlin, who was curled into a foetal position on his bed. Merlin was perpetually hungry, and Arthur had taken to squirreling away small snacks to avoid hearing him whine about his stomach.

"I had a protein shake at break," Merlin said. The ice pack, hand warmers and tubes of deep heat were strewn around his sheets. His face was soft, a younger version of Merlin taking over as the lines eased out and he slipped into sleep.

Arthur left a cereal bar and water on Merlin's bed side and stroked his hair before he had to leave, so as not to be late again for class. Besides, it was probably a little creepy to be running your fingers through your sleeping roommate's hair for so long, even if it was lovely fluffy hair, soft to Arthur's touch and wispy as fine down at the nape.

 

***

When they were dancing together, Arthur was normally busy with his own steps. Playing catch-up with the choreo kept him fully occupied. This was the first time he had a chance to see Merlin dance properly.

Merlin flung himself into the routine at the advanced contemporary dance elective. The studio was sort of on Arthur's way back from gyrotonics (Sort of. It was in the same wing.)

From this distance, Arthur was able to take in the full extent of Merlin's performance.

He spun and cantered, and twisted, jumped and pranced. Although Arthur had no idea what role Merlin had been given for this exercise, he could read clear as day in the movements the story told by the dance, one initially of loss and sorrow, then hope and joy. It was like watching a flower blossoming in the last part of the act.

Arthur wasn't the only audience. The first and second year students in the same elective watched, hands on chin, as Merlin worked through the routine. Arthur could hear the ones nearest to the door, where he loitered, talk about form and movement (expected), how cute Merlin was (unexpected) and what an amazing dancer he was (oh fine, yes, Merlin was good).

"He's our age, you know," a red-headed junior said to his friend. His gaze never left Merlin.

"Is he? But he's in the graduating class," his friend said. She snapped her long hair into a ponytail.

"Yeah, he was so good they took him in early."

"It's not fair, perfect body and so gifted."

"Dreamy! These Irish bastards, there must be something in water. Wasn't Daegal going to ask him out?"

"He did already, Merlin said no."

"Tough."

"Gilli tried as well."

"What? Am I the only one not trying to date seniors?"

"Nah, I think it's just Merlin. He's just so friendly, no airs, you know? Makes guys think they have a chance. Anyway, Merlin put a stop to that. Said he needed to focus on his final year. So he says, but Gilli thinks he fancies someone else." The girl side-eyed her friend. "You could try to date _me_ , you know."

The red-haired boy twisted around quickly. "I could?"

Arthur slipped onto their spot when the pair rushed off. So Merlin was a hotly sought after date on top of being Mr Congeniality. He was just full of surprises. Next to Morgana, Arthur couldn't think of another person who had repeatedly smashed his original impression. Mind you, Morgana would also say Arthur was thick as a foggy day in London Town (she would sing this loudly) and murkier than the River Thames.

The lines Merlin made with his body were mesmerizing. Arthur preferred ballet himself, but he could completely see the appeal of contemporary, and the attraction of the philosophy of not boxing in the body's movements. There was something so raw and heartfelt about Merlin's performance, even just in his practice gear of tights and a faded fitted dance tee. 

The black tee was a little short, so it hitched up this way and that with Merlin's leaps, exposing his flat stomach and cut-in obliques. Another thing for Arthur to add to his mental picture of Merlin, not that he was doing it purposely, because he really wasn't. Arthur was in pretty good shape himself, but he didn't have the twelve percent body fat needed for this type of definition.

Merlin was resting now, letting the others take their turns to show their stuff. He was slick with sweat, his hair sticking out in errant tufts and damp curls sticking to the back of his neck. His face was serious and his attention focused on Mrs Annis, deep in discussion about some technical point or other. Merlin stopped mid-sentence to rotate his upper body and stretch towards the ground. His tee rode up and draped itself over an impossibly long torso. Arthur could swear he could see the shadows of his ribs.

Merlin had spied Arthur. He waved happily and his face broke into a sweet beam. The smile that launched many invitations, it would seem. Arthur waved back and Merlin closed the distance between them in loping strides.

"Hey," Merlin beamed down at Arthur.

"Hey yourself. You done? No, don't sit down, it'll take forever to pry you off the floor. Let's go."

Mrs Annis stopped them on the way out. "Merlin? You'll remember to let me know as soon as you can, won't you? We'll need to put someone else in your role if you're going off."

"Yes, m'am." Merlin nodded briskly and walked quickly on.

Arthur thought he'd heard wrongly. "Going off? What did she mean?"

"Oh. Umm, it's not confirmed yet."

"What's not confirmed yet?"

Merlin wasn't meeting Arthur's gaze, so it was his profile that Arthur was met with. High cheekbones, plump lips and ears that didn't stick out that much from this angle. Arthur wondered how many posters this face would be on in future.

Arthur's question hung in the air, but didn't dissipate. They walked together in matching strides, down the long wooden corridors.

"How are your applications going?" Merlin asked.

Arthur frowned. He'd asked first. "Not great," he answered, not keeping his annoyance out of his voice. "The economy sucks and with art funding being cut, even the regular dancers are trying their luck in America. Europe isn't much better."

"You could always go back to your family thing?"

Arthur grit his teeth. "Yeah, I could. But that would be doing arts management, and I didn't come to dance school to plan events and market other artistes." 

"I thought with your family's ... links to dance, there would be some avenues for you to explore?"

Arthur could feel his forehead creasing. What was Merlin trying to imply? "Look," he said."I know I'm not some Dance Boy Wonder like you, with the ideal body shape and feted by teachers, but I'd like to think I can get a job without brandishing my family name."

"Oh," Merlin's voice went up in tone. "I didn't mean that, Arthur. I was just asking, just wondering, that's all."

"Why are we talking about this, anyway? I thought I was asking what Mrs Annis said back there." _Which you blatantly ignored._

"That's kind of it. She was talking about what I was doing after graduation."

"What? Your own applications? What about them?"

"Something came back," Merlin said.

Arthur had to slow down to make sure he heard properly. "That was quick. I haven't heard of anyone else getting second auditions yet."

"It wasn't a call-back. It was an offer."

"Already?" Arthur's stomach clenched. He should be happy, he knew he should. He said as if on auto-pilot, "Congrats, I suppose. You're happy with the offer?" He tried not to think of the complete lack of interest his own applications had been met with, the ones he’d sent off using his mother’s maiden name.

"Very. But the thing is, they start rehearsals soon, because the show opens in early summer."

"So..."

"So I'll have to miss some of this last term if I want to take it up."

"You have to leave us early?" Arthur's inside twisted. He told himself not to be jealous, not to be selfish. But his lower (more emotional) brain whined about ... Arthur wasn't sure exactly what.

Merlin nodded. He still wouldn't look at Arthur. They were crossing between the buildings, stepping on the cracked pavement that linked the studios with the dorms.

"Well, wouldn't it be funny if I got Elyan as a partner then? It would be like musical chairs," Arthur's more rational mind shifted through the practical implications.

"I'd thought you'd be happy to have your room to yourself again," Merlin said.

"Well, yes, there is that too. No more of your messy messes. "

"Messy messes? As if you're that easy to live with, you OCD neat freak."

"Who would be there to take you down a notch?"

"I'll hardly need it. I'll be a small fish in a big ocean. They'll say I haven't even graduated from dance school, that I'm still a kid; and you know what, they're not wrong." Merlin's jaw was tight and so was his voice.

"But you'll work your damnedest to prove them wrong about you not being a good dancer," Arthur said. Merlin's head snapped around. "What, Merlin? I've known you for a whole three months by now. You're very persistent, you know."

Merlin shrugged. "Being from Ealdor with no dance pedigree is very conducive to building character."

"You'll blow them away with your dancing," Arthur said, his voice louder than he’d intended. "Look at how the teachers love you to pieces after just a month." _Compared to how long I took to convince them the Pendragon scion wasn't here on Daddy's purse strings._

"It's only as a member of the corps de ballet, but we have to start somewhere, right? Well, it's not confirmed yet, I haven't told them yes." They had almost reached their room, and Merlin bumped into Arthur when he stopped suddenly to dig for keys. The random thought that Merlin smelt different today came to Arthur out of nowhere.

"I used to take a bus two hours one way to the nearest school with a performing arts elective," Merlin said. "I can't believe sometimes that I'm here."

"That’s four hours a day," Arthur said. He thought of his own dance lessons, no doubt the  hard-fought prize from hours of shouting matches with Uther, but in the end he’d got them, and he didn’t even have to leave Zone 1 for them. "You're not here for long, are you? Transferred in middle of the year and looks like you're headed out early."

"Just seems like an opportunity I shouldn't let go of," Merlin collapsed on a heap and buried his face in his pillow. "But I'll be missing out on the final year here. And, you know, stuff. And people."

Neither of them had bothered to turn on the lights, so the room was still shrouded in darkness.

"The classes will be over soon, it's just the performances, and the final year production." _It wouldn't be the same without you, Merlin._

"But that's the fun part! And the graduation dinner? It's like our version of the prom, isn't it? I've never been to one."

"Why, were you planning on bringing a date, Merlin? I hear people have been asking you out." Arthur's chest tightened; he didn't know which was worse, Merlin going away, or Merlin staying here but having to share him with someone else.

"Hmm, don't make it sound like that; I'm sure you've had people asking you too," Merlin sat up a bit straighter and looked directly at Arthur. At least he seemed to be. The lights were still off.

"Tell you what, if you're still around, we can go together," Arthur tried to sound casual.

Merlin was silent for the next few heartbeats and Arthur busied himself gathering shower stuff, cursing himself. He refused to look at Merlin, or to fake a laugh and back-pedal. He hadn't said anything wrong, he hadn't.

Arthur was halfway to the bathroom when Merlin's voice floated back at him. "Yeah. Sure thing."

Arthur fled.

The icy cold water shocked Arthur in the shower, shaking him out of his confused thoughts. Merlin was going soon. Arthur didn't want Merlin to go; he wanted Merlin to stay in the school, stay in their room, stay and dance with him. He wanted to be the one to lift Merlin and do funny hugging exercises with him, and sit and argue about who the best dancer was. Arthur wanted to be hands-on with Merlin, and not just when dancing.

Arthur palmed himself loosely and bit his lip as he imagined all the ways he wanted to touch Merlin. Merlin's lush lips, the colour of summer fruits, were the first thing he would stroke. Merlin would look at him in that knowing way, and Arthur would--again, still--be mesmerized by those liquid pools reflecting every colour from grey to blue or, when the sun shone at a certain angle, golden. Arthur would run his fingers down that lean nape, and feel the bones at the top of his spine.

Arthur was fisting himself now, all hot and flustered even with the cold water pouring down his back. He tilted his head to let the water hit his face and slide down his cheeks, relishing the force and the pressure. He was breathing hard and a tightness had started to move from his stomach towards his groin. Arthur flicked his wrist roughly, sliding the skin to and fro and jerking forward. 

He gritted his teeth in frustration. He needed more.

Increasing the hot water brought a rush of heat to Arthur's skin; he groaned with relief and pleasure, the sound echoing around the shower cubicle. He was so close now. What did Merlin look like when he wanked? Would those perfect hips move alluringly, that merman V of his flex and the muscles ripple when Merlin thrusted, and then quiver when he came? Oh god!

The warm sensation drew into a pinprick and exploded. Arthur groaned loudly at his release and doubled over, clinging feebly while his dick pulsed and spurted. He was gasping now, his breath coming in loud huffs. The water was suddenly too hot, and he pulled himself beyond the stream, easing himself back down to earth.

***

From that point, practices were excruciating. Arthur had his steps down pat, but he had to keep snapping his attention back to their roles, when all his brain wanted to do was fixate on Merlin (actually, on _specific body parts_ of Merlin). He tried all the visualization and focusing exercises he'd ever scoffed at, before settling on pretending it was the Prince yearning for the elusive and mysterious black Swan (instead of Arthur making cow eyes at Merlin). Who knew what the hell he looked like, but something must have worked because Mr Gaius noticed. "You've finally learnt to emote on your face, Arthur," Gaius said in approval. "Dancers need to be actors in this type of dance theatre. There’s a powerful story to tell."

The more Arthur allowed himself to gaze at Merlin, the more Merlin responded and returned the look with a fierce and fond stare. Yes, Arthur thought, tracking Merlin intently the way he imagined the sunflower followed the sun, fierce and fond; it sounded odd but described Merlin's Swan to a T.

The BAMF factor shot up when costumes were rolled out. Even without full make-up, Merlin's black feathers were hot, hot, hot and he moulded into the attitude of black badness perfectly. Merlin's face would physically shift, he’d purse his lips, suck in his cheeks and the light that shone through his eyes would change. Arthur thought it was so fucking amazing, and incredibly sexy. Fucking smitten, he was. Shit.

So the bittersweet torture continued.

Arthur would be touching Merlin, grasping his hands, leveraging off them, then letting go; pulling Merlin closely to him, chest to chest, then pushing him away. There was a lot of push and pull, and the pace was fast, so the fleeting touches were always not enough.

Once they got to the slower parts, Arthur thought maybe fleeting touches were better after all. Merlin reaching down from behind Arthur, stroking his face and hugging Arthur to him; Merlin lifting Arthur in his arms tenderly; Merlin planting his face on Arthur’s chest and snuggling up to him … a less hardy (and more honest) man than Arthur might have cried  tears of frustration.

Still, all these were nothing compared to what was at one point their opening scene. It had Arthur lying sideways on the ground, apparently knocked out. Merlin was to edge closer and closer till he was astride Arthur. Arthur--the Prince--would wake up and look up to see this strange feathered black creature staring down at him, Merlin would stare back, and they held this pose till the music picked up and they jerked apart in shock.

Before that scene got changed, it provided so much wank fodder for Arthur, he was surprised no one had called him out on it. Merlin looming above Arthur was a fantasy come true, except, yes, it was Swan looming above the Prince, and instead of being in their room, pushed up against his headboard and surrounded by Merlin-smelling pillows, it was a very public performance and he was on very hard wooden floors with countless nicks and scuffs and the lingering pong of feet.

Outside of the practice studio, Merlin and Arthur didn’t speak much. There were too many things going on demanding their attention.

This lasted until the Bank Holiday weekend.

Gwaine had carted Merlin and Arthur off for a pub crawl with the lads, a rare luxury both because of their time crunch and also because of the carbs in all that beer.  Arthur had met some of Gwaine's outside friends before, but Merlin hadn't, so he wasn't surprised when Merlin stuck close to him most of the night, steadily and quietly drinking. Sometimes he forgot Merlin was just a bit younger than the rest of them; he usually held his own so well on the dance floor.

A human tree trunk of a chap called Percy and a dark Spanish hombre "me llamo Landon" were the two guys Arthur remembered from before. They were deep into a conversation about--what else?--footie and how dancers were just as strong as footballers, when Gwaine dropped his bombshell.

"World Cup this year! Merlin, too bad your stint isn't in Brazil or something, eh? When you're in Europe you'll have to suffer the time difference with the rest of us."

"Europe! Congrats, you got the gig? You're taking it?" Elyan asked.

"Er, yeah, how did you know, Gwaine? I only just told Miss Elena this afternoon," Merlin said.

Gwaine winked. "I had tea with the lovely Miss El and she mentioned it."

"What happened to student confidentiality? What if Merlin here wanted to keep it secret?" Leon said.

"Secret? The whole school will know by tomorrow anyway, it's big news, one of our own getting their foot in the door," Gwaine tossed back the rest of his pint and clapped Merlin heartily. "You're the real deal, mate, headed for big things."

Arthur listened, his heart falling to his feet and gently crumbling there. Merlin had taken the job, and not even told him. Now he'd have to find another partner for their dance and who would there be that was even half as good as Merlin? Their room would be so quiet without Merlin; there wouldn't be the regular flow of people wanting to come and look for Merlin and end up chatting with both of them.  The bottom of Arthur’s stomach kicked out.

Arthur didn't resist when Gwaine inserted himself between Merlin and him and changed the topic to modern dances from Europe debuting in London. Arthur didn't want to hear any more about Merlin's job anyway; it made him feel horrid and Merlin hadn't even the courtesy to give him a heads up.

Arthur turned and pretended to listen to Leon and Percival. Several beers later, Arthur was actively participating in heated discussion about England’s World Cup prospects. He refused to meet Merlin's eye; he knew that Merlin was trying to talk to him, but as he was now wedged between Leon and Percival, Merlin had no way in.

Arthur didn't see why Merlin should be giving him baleful looks; Arthur was the one who was going to be abandoned. Not even four months and Merlin was already leaving him--them--behind. Betrayal clawed at his chest. Arthur ignored the rational voice saying Merlin had done the reasonable, grown-up thing and looked out for his own career. The same annoying voice also said maybe if he'd told Merlin to stay, Merlin might have listened.

But now it was too late, so never mind what the voice said. He drowned the voice in more beer.

"And yooooou'll _Never_... Walk... A-Lone!" Arthur bellowed gustily.

Unlike him, alone. That's what he was. Oh wait, he wasn't alone. Someone's arm seemed to be hoisting him up. Odd, his legs weren't really holding him up that well. He knew he had strong legs, his teacher always said. He could lift 100lbs and more of dancer girls, couldn't he?

"Shh, yes, Arthur, you're big and strong, yes, we know," a voice murmured.

Arthur half-turned. "Wossit? Yep, strong. But what's the use, who wants a strong big guy?"

"Lots of people would, Arthur."

There were some steps involved, and much stumbling and falling, so talk stopped for a while, save for some disgruntled murmurs about how heavy Arthur was. Arthur wanted to say he was _not_ fat, but his mouth had stopped working.

His mouth seemed to function once he was lying down.

"Arthur! Not on the floor, you idiot," the disembodied voice said.

"Hey! Not idiot," Arthur said. With the effort of those words, he promptly fell into a deep sleep.

***

Not for the first time, Arthur was glad he got drunk quickly and fairly harmlessly. It meant he rarely chucked, and it held true this time as well. He woke to an empty dustbin lined with a plastic bag next to his bed and a big glass of water.

He also awoke to a room bereft of Merlin. Merlin's bed had been slept in but the guy himself wasn't there. In his hungover stupor, Arthur sat upright in a panic, wondering if Merlin had already left. "Merlin?" he called, feeling small and stupid. "Merlin?" The room swam in his vision and he lay down again.

Merlin appeared like a magic genie summoned, sailing through the bathroom door with damp hair, a towel and little else. "Oh," he said. "You're up. I thought you would sleep in."

"Arggh." _My head hurts._

"Ah yes, and that too."

"Urgh." _Hurts!_

"Yeah I know."

"Gwaine!"

"He's your friend, mate."

" _Our_ friend, ‘mate.’" Arthur watched Merlin change out of the corner of his eye. The toned back was covered by a soft grey tee shirt, and there was some sleight of hand with the towel, then Merlin was in track pants.

When Arthur drifted back into consciousness again, Merlin was curled up in bed reading his Kindle. "Hey," Arthur croaked.

Merlin looked up. "Hey." His fluffy hair bounced.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Sorry about last night. I was really out of it."

"Good thing Percival helped most of the way. It was like dragging a limp bear."

"At least it didn't get messy?" Arthur’s habits got the better of him, and he stumbled up to brush his teeth. It also meant he had a brief reprieve from having to deal with Merlin. He returned and collapsed back on his bed. 

"Um, I talk rubbish when I'm drunk," Arthur said. 

"Hmm."

"Yeah, I have to tell you, it is rubbish, honestly. I can't remember what I said, even."

"You can't?" Merlin put his Kindle down and eyed Arthur. He seemed to make a decision when Arthur stretched out and sat up gingerly. "Do you remember being a prat? That was before you got drunk."

"What did I do?" Arthur would have been more indignant if he had the energy for it.

"You blew me off once you got talking with Gwaine's friends. Refused to give me the time of day when more exciting people were around."

"I blew _you_ off? I'm not the one running off to exciting people and a job, and leaving us poor sods behind." Arthur waved his hand at Merlin, then let it plop onto the bed.

"What?"

Merlin's confusion annoyed Arthur. He said, "What, what?... You didn't even deign to tell me you were going off, I had to hear it from Gwaine."

"Why are you so angry I got an offer?"

"I'm not angry, I'm just ... pissed off that I need to find another partner for the production," Arthur tapered off.

Merlin's forehead creased. "Why do you have to do that? What's wrong with dancing with me?"

This was getting weirder and weirder; Arthur wasn't that hungover. He tried again. "I need to do that because you're leaving us early? For your job? For the rehearsals for summer debut, didn't you say? Means you're not here for end of year stuff, right?" Really, they seemed to be talking in circles.

Merlin's face cleared. "Oh," he said. He lifted himself up and sat on Arthur's bed instead. Arthur hunched miserably and steeled himself for a patronizing pep-talk.

"Let's start again. Yes, I got an offer. It's for a year-long internship in France," Merlin's tone was gentle.

"Internship? France?"

"That's what Gwaine heard from Miss Elena. I didn't accept the other job I mentioned before--turns out it was way too rushed, they wanted me by last week and I've barely even been here for a few months."

"You didn't?" Arthur's fuzzy mind was trying to piece together the pieces. "This internship starts..."

"Just before the season begins, so I can go over in June or July, there's still plenty of time."

"So you can stay the year here?" Arthur's brain seemed to have finally caught up with him. His body was one step ahead; his heart gave a funny stutter and a warm glow started in his chest. "That's good. It's good news."

"So you still have a dance partner, you worrywart." Merlin said, his face split by a grin. "I'll still be in your hair and your room for months yet." He was very close to Arthur now, sitting on Arthur's bed. Arthur was certainly not the hugging type, but he didn't resist when Merlin leaned in and pulled Arthur to himself in an awkward embrace. Merlin said into Arthur's ear, "Not blowing you off. Not leaving Albion. Not leaving you."

Relief made Arthur careless with his words. "I didn’t want you to go," he choked. He was unprepared for the depth of emotion evoked by Merlin's assurances. He gave in and returned Merlin's tight hold. Merlin's cheek brushed against his and Arthur nuzzled it, relishing the light stubble and warm flesh.

"Aw, you’ll miss me? As a friend?"

Arthur shook his head and inclined his head so his lips were on Merlin's face, nipping along his jawline. He pressed into the soft flesh below Merlin’s ear. "Not just as a friend."

"Thank fuck for that," breathed Merlin. He tilted his head and Arthur obliged by nosing and licking down his neck, then moving so he could hold Merlin's face squarely and kiss him straight on. Merlin's lips were a glorious revelation, plump and kissable, and Arthur felt a tingle in his groin to imagine them wrapped around his own cock. He revelled in Merlin's touch, tracing the corner of Merlin's lips with a thumb and swiping the lower edge once and again.

Merlin matched Arthur in ardour, pushing forward until Arthur was backed up against his headboard and had to move his hands from Merlin's face to his back, down to the small of his back and around his waist. He could smell Merlin’s shower gel, clean and fresh. 

Suddenly worried about lingering morning breath, Arthur nudged Merlin so he could slide himself down the bed, then dragged Merlin down with him. Pushing Merlin onto his back, Arthur flipped to his side and relished in the sensation of partially covering Merlin's body with his own.  Finally, finally, he had Merlin in his arms, the way he wanted. The remnants of his hangover gave everything a dreamlike quality, but didn’t detract from Arthur’s elation. 

Arthur licked at Merlin’s prominent collarbones while sliding his hands under that grey tee shirt and stroking the silky smooth flesh.

"Is this ok?" Arthur stopped to ask.

Merlin nodded, eyes glazed. He kissed the top of Arthur head, not always successfully given the angle. In between kisses, Merlin murmured, "I wasn't sure. You were always looking at me. But. Wasn't sure. Oh... yes!" Arthur had pinched Merlin's nipples, circling them gently and rolling the nub between his fingers, before moving onto the other side. He loved seeing Merlin squirm and moan, and the effect when Arthur pinched and nibbled Merlin's ear at the same time was extremely satisfying, and exceedingly hot.

In the midst of these glorious sensations, Arthur was slowly aware of Merlin palming his bum. With his dick rubbing along Merlin's thigh and Merlin's fingers trailing along his clothed crack, Arthur's lower body was spiking with pleasure. He gasped unevenly, thrusting for more friction, grateful that he was wearing thin PJs.

Merlin seemed to have lost patience. "Up. Get on me," he said, pushing Arthur from his side to make Arthur climb directly on top of him.

"Bossy," Arthur grunted. He reluctantly scooted up and was pacified when Merlin said, "I'll make sure you have no regrets."

Merlin lifted his hips and pulled down his track pants, then yanked Arthur's PJs down for good measure. "Efficient, you mean," Merlin said, and made good his words, by taking hold of both their cocks and kneading.

From this angle, supported on his elbows and caging Merlin, Arthur couldn't see, but Merlin's cock felt thinner and longer than his. The frottage was heavenly, and he didn't think they would last long. If he didn't come soon, his arms might give out, but for now, he was flying high on adrenaline and dopamine and god knows what other things coursing through his veins.

"God, Arthur, you feel so good," Merlin gasped out in between mewling sounds that got Arthur even more excited. He couldn't speak himself, focused on the exertion of moving and sliding. The slick sounds of frottage seemed very loud, and sweat was dripping into Arthur's eyes and gathering on his neck.

The knot of pleasure built in his gut as the heat pooled in his groin. Arthur wasn't sure where one part of him started and another part of Merlin ended, or who was making what sounds anymore. He blocked out everything except for Merlin’s face, staring up directly at him, open-mouthed, cheek-flushed, and wanton as could be. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" someone was saying, then everything flashed white and Arthur crumpled like a puppet on strings, twitching and spent.

Dimly Arthur felt himself being lifted to the side and flinched at a cold touch on his body. "Keep still," Merlin said. "Not unless you want to fall into the wet patch on your other side." The cloth moved around his groin, up his chest, and teasingly circled his nipples. Arthur caught Merlin's hand and pulled Merlin near. "What, again? Here?" Merlin said, lips curving up.

"You're right," Arthur said. "We should mess up your sheets instead."

"Your Royal Prince decrees, huh? You know that's just a role right?"

"A role I'm brilliant in. _We_ will be brilliant in that dance."

"I know we will," Merlin said. "Everything else will be brilliant too."

Arthur kissed Merlin full on the lips, possible morning breath be damned. Every cynical bone in his body had bowed to the force of positivity and cheeriness that Merlin personified. "Why," he asked. "Why are you always so upbeat? 'This is great,' 'that is great.' I feel like a grouchy old man next to you."

"That's because you are one," Merlin laughed and pulled away. "Why not? I mean it. Dance is close to my heart and it's worthy of my time and commitment, and here I am doing it." He stood up, kissed the side of Arthur's face and said, "Now I have even more to be cheery about."

***

Arthur hadn't been so wound up about a school performance since he was 12 and did his first dance recital, back when he was just starting to venture into the wonderful world of dance. Tonight was also a significant milestone in his dancing life, but there was a bigger crowd, an older, wiser and hopefully better Arthur, and, of course, he had a partner now.

He held Merlin's hand backstage, holding back a kiss thinking Merlin would squirm away, protesting "the make-up," and was surprised when Merlin kissed him instead. It was a light kiss, a promise of more after, but the intensity of Merlin's grip, and the expression in eyes, revealed how on edge his partner was too. The crowd was noisy tonight too, the whole mood celebratory and raucous almost, perfectly normal for the Albion Academy Year End production.

"This is an excerpt from [Act 2 ](http://youtu.be/fKc71-SEoiw)of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, performed by two of our very best ballet boys. Enjoy, everyone!" Gwen, the emcee for the night, introduced them with a flourish, and they were off.

The lights came up. Arthur the Prince hunched in despair and depression, on the edge of ending his life. Behind him, Merlin's Swan made a slow entrada and segued into his variation.

Arthur was huddled downstage and couldn't see Merlin for the next few minutes, but he could imagine what a magnificent figure Merlin cut against the dark blue graveyard backdrop.

During practice, Arthur would stare at the full-walled mirror, eyes fixed on Merlin to the point of distraction, particularly when Merlin was in full costume. Merlin with his bare chest, feathered knee-length trousers and bold, black facial markings, radiated grace and physical power. His rapid head movements conveyed aggression, territorial rage accented by loud hissing.

Now at this point in the show, Merlin should be doing the showstopper of his solo, the long-held arabesque in demi-pointe (that was the one that triggered Merlin's overuse injury). The music stilled for a heartbeat when the Swan stepped behind the Prince and pressed into him.

Gradually, the Prince was made aware of this presence behind him. Arthur swayed back, twisted to see, and extended an arm towards the surprising visage revealed behind him. In his otherworldly get up, the Swan's athletic steps and bounds would enchant the Prince (and hopefully the audience) into a trance-like state.

On his part, Arthur portrayed the Prince's descent into madness through the whole arc of the scene. He had worked hard in practice not to overplay it. Now onstage, there was no time to think, nor should he be thinking. He let the music and the mood overtake him and sank as deeply as he could into the role. He willed the dance to flow from him, letting it take over him as much as he could.

The Prince was uplifted and entranced by a powerful Swan. From his unsure start, he was drawn into the Swan's seductive energy, and their pas de deux was a courtship, an entangling and teasing and slow revealing of each other. The Swan's unbelievably long limbs twirled around the Prince, holding him, caressing him.

For this, it was just the two of them, not like in the real show where there was a whole troupe of male swans, and it was so much more intense.

Arthur felt like he was floating on a cloud. 

In the coda part of the duet, they both performed individual feats of virtuosity, then came together to triumphantly conclude. Arthur matched his steps carefully to Merlin's, imagining both of them as one entity, entwined and synchronized, cleaving and splitting time and time again in their duet. He willed himself to relax when the Swan picked up the Prince and curled him into foetal position. What followed was a very difficult move. Arthur breathed hard, activated all his core muscles and wrapped himself around Merlin, slowly curling around him sinuously, sliding off him finally. All the while, Merlin, as he had promised, held steady, anchoring them both.

The scene ended triumphantly, if somewhat ambiguously. The Prince was beguiled, attracted, and ultimately, comforted. The Swan took a last look and swept away, all aristocratic grace to the end. The music stopped and the lights cut off, and then everything hung in that split-second stillness that always followed the end of a performance.

Then there was applause and wolf whistles and Merlin was rushing up to grab Arthur’s hand and yanking him up to take a bow.

Backstage, Arthur twirled Merlin, pumped on a great rush of joy and adrenaline.

"I'm not a girl, Arthur," Merlin laughed. His elongated profile, side-lit by the stage lights, was all elegance and such a stark contrast to goofy, lovable, loving Merlin, that Arthur was quite overcome.

"It's done, Merlin!" Arthur hugged Merlin hard, both of them in a sweaty mess. "We did it!"

Mr Gaius shouted, "Wonderful, you danseurs! Now, move, let the other pair get on!"

Arthur held Merlin tightly all the way to the changing room. It was better than alcohol, nothing quite like the high of a good performance.  God, how Arthur loved dancing. If there was any reason at all for him to believe in a higher being, it was that someone or something had made music and dance for him, because they knew Arthur loved it so much. The only thing better than dancing was dancing with someone special, and Arthur didn’t know when he might get that again.

Merlin kissed him suddenly, fiercely, and Arthur thanked the unknown higher being for a night where he had his two loves both in the same place. 

===

FIN

 

**Author's Note:**

> In the event the hyperlinks don't work for you, here are the links for the 2 dance videos 
> 
> (a) 18 Naked Dancers: http://www.sadlerswells.com/whats-on/2014/Olivier-Dubois-Company/  
> (or just google the phrase, the vid should turn up) 
> 
> (b) The duet/ dance (pas de deux) that the boys' duet is based on: http://youtu.be/fKc71-SEoiw
> 
> For works inspired by this:  
> Merlocked's amazing Swan! Merlin at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1511222
> 
> Candy's lovely, lovely dancer! Merlin at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1538759
> 
> Much love to both of them <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art - Merlin in the dance studio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538759) by [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/pseuds/Candymacaron)




End file.
